


How Not to Deal with your Troubles

by antigrav_vector



Series: CapIM Bingo fills - 2016-2 [1]
Category: Marvel, Marvel (Comics), Marvel 1872
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Western, Cap_Ironman Bingo, Gen, Stony Bingo, Stony Bingo 2016, Unrequited Crush, lack of self-care, past traumas, pov fic, references to alcoholism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-06
Updated: 2016-10-06
Packaged: 2018-08-19 22:40:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8227183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/antigrav_vector/pseuds/antigrav_vector
Summary: Tony wakes up. This is not a particularly good thing. Leave it to Steve to fix that.





	

**Author's Note:**

> With thanks to the lovely [navaan](http://archiveofourown.org/users/navaan) for the speedy beta-read! <3
> 
> Bingo fill for the prompt "au: western". There will be a series of sequels.

Another day, another hangover. Tony groaned, shifting just far enough to bury his head under his thin excuse for a pillow. His latest attempt to drown himself in liquor hadn't worked. Neither was he dead nor had he managed to forget that horrific scene on the battlefield in Virginia. Hundreds of men, mown down like so much winter wheat thanks to his weapons. All of them dead because he'd trusted in the word of the Union commanders. Trusted that the Confederates would be warned, in the spirit of fair play. He could still smell the blood. See the bodies lying in the summer sun. He still hadn't forgotten.

Well, he'd just have to try again, it seemed.

At least he could find some temporary solace at the bottom of a bottle, even if it all came rushing back afterwards along with the splitting headache and horrific taste in his mouth.

"Hey, Stark," a well-known voice called, simultaneously welcome but feeling like a railroad spike being driven through his eye socket, "you awake?"

With another, louder groan, Tony forced himself to his feet to pull open his door, screwing his eyes shut against the bright sunlight that flooded in. After he could open them again, he asked, "what do you need, Sheriff?"

Steve, the lummox, just grinned broadly. "Wanted to make sure you were still alive. Never yet saw a man who could drink like you and stand the next day."

That Irish lilt would be the death of him yet, Tony decided, giving Steve a crooked grin and a shrug. "I've had practice."

"Come on," Steve said slinging an arm around his shoulders, "let's get some water in you."

"I'm fine," Tony protested, feeling oddly like Steve was trying to take his self inflicted punishment away.

"You can barely open your eyes," Steve shot back, the level of caring compassion in his voice all but bringing Tony to his knees.

"Just give it an hour or so," he protested, trying to get free.

Steve was having none of it. "Oh no, you don't. You'd just go hide in your dark cave of a bedroom until nightfall. You're coming with me."

"Gonna clap me in irons?" Tony sniped.

"If I have to," Steve replied levelly, "but I'd rather you came willingly."

Oh, Tony thought wildly, if only you knew, Sheriff. He'd happily share Steve's bed and would come oh so willingly. The man was just too damned attractive for his own good, and didn't even realize it.

Giving in to the eventuality that was Steve's insistence that he leave his smithy, Tony swore under his breath. "Fine, I give. But I'd better be well compensated for my participation in this travesty."

Steve grinned at him, only semi-gracious in his victory. "How about breakfast," he offered.

Letting Steve steer him out his own door, Tony let out a long-suffering sigh. "Accepted forms of compensation is normally monetary," Tony reminded him, knowing his arch tone was likely ruined by the roughness of his voice.

Steve eyed him. "And maybe a gallon or so of water," he added.

"If I must drown," Tony replied, "I'd rather do so in whiskey."

"That's what got you into this state." Steve gave him a thoughtful look, and steered him through the swinging saloon doors into Jan's place. "I don't know what demons are biting at your heels," he added, "and I'm not asking you to tell me. But this is no way to deal with them."

Tony snorted. "Shows what you know."

Steve rolled his eyes and pushed Tony down into a chair at the bar. "I know you'll drink yourself into an early grave at this rate." Turning to face the kitchen he called, "Jan! Two breakfasts, please!"

"Alright, sheriff," Jan called back in her cheerful tones, "I'll whip something up."

\------


End file.
